


blood in my lungs

by potato_post_community



Series: they say this is home (but home is with you) [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Child Abuse, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Gen, I haven't ever even really read any of the comics ?? I've watched some of the movies but, I love Damian so I wrote this shit, kind of, man idk i wrote this instead of sleeping ig, oopsy!, sorry guys idk i fell into a rabbit hole get me out, yeah idk how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 16:48:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21139967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potato_post_community/pseuds/potato_post_community
Summary: Bruce Wayne hits Tim Drake.Damian Wayne confesses to something a little more.Tim Drake hates.(In which, it turns out that Bruce Wayne has been abusing the youngest member in the Wayne family. Tim's the one to figure it out.)





	blood in my lungs

Tim Drake _ hates. _

It’s an ugly, little thing. It starts up in his cheek and jaw where the pain radiates like a pulsing heart. The hate is warm. Hotter than warm- it’s boiling hot, so potent it _ burns _ as it rushes through his veins. It’s not like it hurts, later on it might. Right now, it feels like the cool sting of a bullet before you load it into the gun. Right now, it feels like the cold bite of a blade as you prepare for battle. 

It’s a poisonous, little thing. He clenches his fists from where he sits on the ground, watching the retreating form of Bruce Wayne as the cape flutters behind him. (That man is not Batman, Batman cares the smallest smidge for someone. For something.) The pain retreats too, melting into the hate to create a soft ache. The cold floor seeps into his body, only serving to fuel his emotions more. 

His hands find purchase beneath him, just enough to push himself to his feet. He’s ready to go after Bruce, to shout and to yell and to do _ something _ he won’t quite like come the morning. He might earn another hit- a punch has never kept a Robin down and it probably never will.

_ What the hell _ is on the very tip of his tongue as he takes a step forward. 

And then Damian’s there, right in front of him with shaking hands and too-wide eyes and too-soft words. “Are you alright?” he asks, and it’s not patronizing or mocking or cruel. It’s tiny. It’s the voice of a ten year old boy who just saw his older brother get hit by their father. It’s the voice of a child who just saw unneeded violence and just a little bit more. 

Tim wipes at his jaw and pushes his shoulders back. His mask sits firm on his face. Red Robin doesn’t react with anger, he reminds himself. 

“I’m fine, demon,” he spits, and the hate that drips from his lips makes Damian shake just a little bit more. He curses himself for slipping- a ten year old boy isn’t a _ demon, _ and Damian’s proven himself to be more of a brother than a threat. 

“What did you _ do?_” Damian asks, eyes trained on Tim’s cheek. “What did you do to make him so _ angry?_” 

_ What did you do? _ he asks, like it’s Tim’s fault that Bruce is what he is. _ What did you do? _ he asks, like Tim _ asked _ to be hit. _ What did you do? _ he asks, and Tim hates just a little bit more. 

He pulls away from Damian with a hiss. Damian lets him without saying anything except for a tiny _ I am sorry. _ It wasn’t _ Tim’s _ fault- far from it. He knows that it’s Bruce’s, but Bruce’s damn _ son _ thinks of him like he hung the _ damn stars. _ The hate in his heart grows. How _ dare _ Damian have the audacity to suggest-

“It’s just-” Damian falls silent, shifting his weight to his other foot. His arms are wrapped around him, as if he were cold. He looks small- too small. There’s no way that this Damian can hold the title of Robin on his shoulders without crumbling under the pressure. “When Father does that” -that as in _ hit? _ That as in _ abuse?_\- “to _ me_” -what does he mean, _ to me. _ What the hell does that mean- “It’s because I did something wrong.” Damian shrugs, arms falling to his side. “These days, it feels like everything I _ do _is wrong.” 

Tim shakes and he does not understand. 

Damian tells him he needs an ice pack. 

Tim nods, and he _hates_.

\--

_ The first time it happens, Grayson is in Bludhaven and I am alone in the house with Father. Drake is gone with the Teen Titans. Todd is somewhere in the city, far away from Wayne Manor. Alfred is out. Father is newly resurrected. Being dead has taken a toll on him. _

_We’ve just come back from patrol. Father is upset that I’m doing things Grayson’s way. It’s what I’m used to. Father’s been gone too long. Our time together was short. _

_ “Grayson’s more of a father than you have been,” I say, and I know that it’s wrong the moment I do. “I cannot help relying on his way over yours.” _

_ Father lashes out. _

\--

He rounds up Dick and Jason. The drive to Bludhaven is hell, Jason doesn’t want anything to do with Tim or Dick, and Dick’s too busy worrying over Tim for him to get a single word it. Eventually, time finds the three in a booth at McDonald’s, munching on fries and stewing in an awkward silence. Dick is tense, shoulders hiked up to his ears as he twirls his phone in his hands. 

For the third time, Dick asks, “How is Damian holding up?” 

Tim swallows back the words he brought them here to hear _ I think that Bruce has been- _ Instead, he shrugs. “He’s been a brat. What more can I say?” 

It’s not true. Damian has been nothing close to a brat lately. He’s been all over the place, really. Most of the time, he’s away in his room, wasting time until he’s ungrounded and able to go back onto the field. He fills up canvases after canvases, Alfred sneaks in and hangs them up around the house everytime he finishes one. Sometimes, they’re beautiful. They’re of the sunrise outside of Damian’s window, they’re of the skyline right as the moon begins to rise, they’re of oceans and lakes that Tim’s never seen and they’re of home and the manor- empty and unforgiving and _ cold. _ Sometimes, they speak of something more. They’re of Alfred or Tim, both still and silent. Tim recons there has to be some of Bruce, ones that don’t get to see the light of day because Damian hides them away. 

He’s only seen a few of Damian himself. It was black and red and too dark for Tim to fathom- scribbles and stark lines that seem to throw the whole scene into disarray. There’s always a little boy in those drawings, one with hollow eyes and a shadow that seems too big. 

Tim holds back a shiver. “Not as much as a brat as he is normally,” he continues. “I don’t think he’s gotten into trouble with Bruce for a bit. He’s grounded, though.” 

“Is he afraid of Bruce- Does he think that he’ll-?” 

_ I think that Bruce is- _

“Why the hell are we here, then? You’re fine, Bruce’s behavior isn’t anything new- The demon kid is fine,” Jason speaks up. His leg bounces beneath the table. He stuffs another handful of fries into his mouth and swallows. “Did you want a fuckin’ family reunion or some shit? I’ve got stuff to do.” 

The glare Tim gives Jason radiates that _ hate _ that’s been clinging to him. It’s inevitable and inescapable. “I never said Damian was _ fine,_” he says, terse. (Spit it out, spit it out, spit it out. Get him out and away from Bruce before something _ happens. _ Tim, Tim, spit it out already, Tim, spit it out.) 

Dick looks up almost immediately. “Is Damian not fine?” 

“He’s-” 

“Should I come back to Gotham with you? If there’s something wrong with Damian- It’s Bruce, isn’t it? Or-” Dick goes on into a ramble, reaching for his coat and pulling out his wallet. Tim can almost feel the worry that floods from him. He’s sure that Jason can feel it too, what with the way annoyance bubbles up onto his face. 

Jason pushes himself up. “I’m gonna head out,” he says. 

“Jason, something’s _ wrong _ here,” Dick tries. 

“You’re both just wasting my time.” 

“We should all head to the manor, right-?” 

“Like _ hell _ if I’m going back there-” 

Tim abruptly stands, throwing his hands down onto the table. “_Sit down!_” he barks. It makes the employees behind the counter jump and it makes the other customers upset. One shushes them. Tim ignores it as Jason thumps back down into the seat. “I just- I’m not sure how to _ say this, _ okay?” 

“Say _ what?_” Jason shoots back. 

“Damian said-” That’s not what he should start with. “I think that Bruce-” 

“Tim?” 

“I-” 

He can’t say it. If he says it out loud, it might become _ real, _ and Tim doesn’t want it to be real. (It was okay when it was him. Not okay, okay, just- It was better when he could think that it wasn’t their _ ten year old kid brother._) 

“Spit it _ out, Tim._” 

“I think that Bruce is abusing Damian.” 

\--

_ The second time it happens, it’s weeks later and Tim is home. He’s away in his room, sleeping away another rough patrol. Alfred is home too, in the kitchen drying cups from our late dinner. I asked if he wanted help and he told me no. He sent me Father’s way. _

_ I knew I’d done something wrong on patrol, but I’m not sure what it was that I did. Father’s mad at me again, I know that one for sure. _

_ He looks at me with a cold glare. I’m reminded of Mother and of Grandfather, whenever I failed to meet the requirements of a mission. _

_ “What did I do?” I ask. _

_ The only answer I get is the taste of blood on my tongue. _

\--

Dick forces everyone down to the manor with shaking shoulders and clenched fists. Jason looks the same, though the lines on his face are more pronounced with rage. Tim follows with silent steps and a plan in his head. He’s going to take Damian upstairs and pack a bag or two- the two of them are going to crash at Dick’s until the media swarm swallows the Wayne family whole. 

“We’ll sue,” Jason had said, with a quivering voice. “We’ll send him to jail- he’s gone to _ fuckin’ _ far!” 

It’s a lesson, mostly. You can’t touch the youngest of their family without karma grabbing you and chucking you to the wind. Even when it’s Batman and Robin, Red Robin and Nightwing and Red Hood- You can’t touch Robin without someone having his back. It’s been that way for as long as they can remember. When Tim was Robin, Dick and Bruce ran. When Jason was Robin, Bruce _ tried_. When Dick was Robin- He can’t remember much ever happening, that deserved panic and a shining knight. 

Alfred lets them in, face pale and drawn. “Master Bruce and Master Damian are at it again, I’m afraid. Master Bruce is a bit- He’s- It’s not Master Damian’s fault.” There’s an unspoken side to that. _ It’s Bruce’s fault. Bruce did it. Bruce started it. _ Started what? What happened? Is Damian okay. “They’re in the dining room.” 

Tim walks in immediately, already calling out for Damian. Dick follows while Jason lags, pausing to talk to Alfred for a moment more. With purposeful strides, Dick overtakes Tim and turns the corner first. 

The next thing that Tim hears is a high-pitched yelp and Dick’s yelling- too loud and too angry. 

“You don’t have _ any right _ to lay a hand on him!” Dick cries, and as Tim rushes around the corner, he sees Dick step in front of Damian. Their youngest brother is sprawled on the floor, blood dripping down from his nose. "_He’s ten years old, _ Bruce! What the hell is _ wrong _with you?” 

Tim drops to the ground, pulling Damian up enough to look him in the eye. “Let’s get that nose fixed up,” he mutters. “Then we’ll go pack us some overnight bags.” 

“Where are we going?” Damian asks, and he has no _ right _ sounding that small. 

“We’re going to Dick’s.” 

Damian’s eyes flit over to their older brother. Then, over to Bruce. His face falls. “I’m sorry- I- He wouldn’t-” 

“Breathe.” 

“I asked him about you. About where you went. And- And then I asked- I asked him if he felt bad about hitting you- If he felt bad about hitting _ me- _ I- He _ wasn’t- _ He-” Damian’s voice _ cracks _ and he _ crumples _ back down to the floor. Tim sweeps him up in his arms and Damian tenses like he’s preparing for a hit. 

Tim wraps a hand around Damian’s head, pulling him into his chest. “You’re okay.” 

“He doesn’t _ care-_” 

“C’mon, Dami. Let’s go upstairs.” 

Jason comes inside as Tim pulls Damian out, a curse already dropping from his lips. He knows what Jason’s going to say, so he tunes everyone out and continues up the stairs. Damian is quiet and compliant- he already has a to-go back at the ready. They all actually do, Tim’s is just already in use, up in Titans Tower. (He’d snatched it up the night Bruce hit him, left for the tower after Damian was in bed.) 

He packs up a second one and slings it over his shoulder. Damian heads for the stairs when they duck out of their rooms. Tim stops him. He points to the bathroom, then gestures to his younger brother’s face. “We need to get it patched up.” 

Damian nods. Then he follows.

\--

_ The third and fourth times are a blur. The fifth time is more than a punch or a slap- it’s a kick to the ribs and a yank of my hair. No one is home, not a single soul other than Father and I. It hurts. I cry out despite what Mother taught me. (You can’t show weakness.) Father doesn’t let up. I don’t know what I did. _

_ By the sixth time, I do know what I did. I keep letting innocents die at the hands of my choices. It’s a cruel thing, I know that I should be better. Batman- Father- manages to save the civilian and nab the bad guy every time. The sixth time is also when Pennyworth catches it. _

_ He doesn’t act kindly towards it. He yells at Father and then herds me up to the bathroom. My bruises get ointment and my scrapes from patrol get patched up. He asks me if I’d like to call Grayson, stay a few nights down in Bludhaven. _

_I tell him I’m fine. _

\--

The very moment they get downstairs, Tim shoves a phone into Damian’s hand and hisses out, “_C__all the police. _ Throw on your best cry-baby, daddy-just-hit-me, I’m-actually-ten voice and _ call the police._” 

Damian tries to sputter out a _ Drake_, but Tim’s already twisting into the room where he left his older brothers. Jason’s yelling, louder and more rash- Dick’s screeching at Bruce as Bruce screeches back. Dick’s grasping at his own cheek. Tim knows what that means and it makes his heart rumble. Bruce hit Dick again. 

Tim _ prays _ that this is the last time. 

“We’re leaving!” Tim shouts, drawing everyone’s attention. “All of us have had it with you, Bruce. You can’t do this stuff to us anymore.” He has a speech queued up in his mind. It’s insightful and emotional- it could get a boulder to move if he needed it to. It’s everything that he thinks Bruce needs to hear, it’s everything that Tim needs and wants to say. It’s everything that he’s been wanting to say since the moment he looked Bruce in the eyes that night. 

And then Damian pushes past him, little fists clenched. “You had no right,” he says, voice low and filled with an underlying rage. “They’re your _ kids._” 

He’s implying something, with that. ‘_They_’, he’d said. Not ‘_we_’. Damian doesn’t think of himself as part of the family, it’s clear enough to Tim that that’s what he believes. Something small and dark explodes in Tim’s gut. There’s a big part of him that doesn’t like that, a bigger part that makes him think that there’s a little _ more _ than just that. He glances over to Dick, who’s standing rigid and frozen. Dick meets his gaze. He’s picked up on that _ something _ too. 

Tim moves forward and sets a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “We’re your kids, Bruce. _ Please._” 

People always talk about the calm before the storm- about the eye of the hurricane. This feels like a soft mix of both. This feels like the eye of the hurricane, yes- but it feels like they’re still waiting for the worst of the storm to come. 

So, for now, things are relatively calm. Bruce heaves, Jason curses in his mind and Tim prepares for something to happen. Dick begins to inch towards Damian, and all Tim can think is: _ How much worse could this ge- _

(Tim can tell you the very second that he realized that he spoke too soon. He can tell you the very second that he began to shake for real, the very second that the storm hit.) 

Three things happen at once. 

One, Damian _ shoves _ Tim out of the way, and he goes spinning like some kind of dreidel until the moment that he loses his balance and trips over his own feet. The floor comes in hot, and he barely has enough time to look up to see what comes next. 

The second thing comes in the form of Bruce. He lunges forth with the grace that Batman normally lacks, a hulking mass of some kind of potent rage. His arm shoots out in a blur, and all Tim can do is watch and scream in his mind, _ why isn’t Damian moving, Damian you need to move, Damian please- _

Three is just Jason’s shout, simple and something that Tim latches onto with a desperate wail. 

Damian’s head bounces off the wall a beat later. 

There are no words that _ exist _ that could explain the flash of emotions that flash over Dick’s face, before Tim’s oldest brother _ screams _ with the pain and the rage of a _ parent _ that’s crying out for their very own _ child. _

He barely even notices that he screams too, choked up and full of too many emotions for him to keep a grip on. Tim scrambles for the phone as Jason- _ why is it Jason beside him, why isn’t it Dick, why isn’t Jason dealing with Bruce, this isn’t like them at all_\- kneels beside Damian and pulls his head up and into his lap. The screen blinks on to show that they’re still on call with the police- (what Tim assumes is the police, anyway). 

“_Hello?_” asks the operator, in a sweet, low voice. They’re a woman, from the sound of it. 

“We need an ambulance,” Tim chokes out. “Please- our father just hit our little brother- he’s- I don’t think he’s moving- _ please-_” The operator pauses, before asking if there’s anyone with him. “My- our older brother is- he’s-” 

Tim is a Robin- currently a Red Robin- and he can’t understand _ why he can’t hold himself together. _

“_Okay, okay, honey. Your little brother is going to be just fine. The police are only a couple minutes away. Can I ask you how old you are?"_

“Seventeen,” he gasps. 

She makes a sound of surprise, probably expecting someone a little younger- possibly closer to Damian’s age. “_What about your name, honey?_” 

“Tim- Tim Drake.” 

“_Not Wayne?_” 

“I’m adopted,” he says curtly. The conversation gives him something to ground himself with. 

“_Okay, Tim. Can you pass the phone to your older brother? How old is he?_” 

Tim does it without responding, and Jason’s gruff voice crosses over the line. “Early twenties. Jason- Also adopted. Most of us are. The kid- Damian- he’s breathing and his skull is still intact- Bruce fucked up his nose earlier though, before we all came home. We’re worried about a possible concussion, right?” 

“_I-_” There’s another sound of surprise. “_Yes. Try to wake him up, too. Then check his eyes- I’ll assume you know standard concussion protocol? Enough to tide you over until our people get there, Jason?_” 

“Yeah.” 

Tim makes the mistake of glancing over to Dick and Bruce. 

It’s not pretty. 

\--

_ I’ve lost track of which time this is, but Father is enraged because I brought up Drake. “Don’t you love us?” I ask Father. “You love him, right? I do not- I do not think I understand, Father. Mother did not love me, and yet she treated me the same way-” _

_ “I am _ not _ your mother,” Father hisses. “I am _ not _ Talia.” _

_ “This- This is not _ about _ Mother. It- It is about Drake, Father. You regret what you did, do you not?” _

_ I don’t remember what happens after I say this, not fully anyway. I know that Father hits me again, harder than normally, and then Grayson is there, yelling. Then Drake is there, pulling me away. I feel safe, for once, in Drake’s presence. _

_ We come downstairs to soon. _

_ I see Father tense up to lunge before Drake does. _

_ I push him out of the way. _

_ And then everything _ hurts. 

_ ("Mommy, it hurts, mommy, why does it hurt so much?" I asked, when I was still young and stupid and_ afraid.

_"_It’s not _ mommy, _ Damian,_" Mother said. "_You’re too old for that._" She raised her hand for another blow- I realize now that it was because I was being punished for something out of my control_

_"Mommy, _ please-_" _

_I was three._)

_Why does everything hurt?_

**Author's Note:**

> i don't even know
> 
> i might write a second part??? because i hate how i ended it ??? 
> 
> im so sorry folks
> 
> tumblr: [potato-reblob](https://potato-reblob.tumblr.com/)


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